


Foundher

by itsjustsilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abduction, Alpha Tom Riddle, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood Kink, Come Marking, Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fem! Harry Potter - Freeform, Female Harry Potter, Forced Bonding, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, Marking, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Omega Harry Potter, Omega Verse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Psychopathic Behaviour, Pureblood Harry Potter, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Sadism, Survival Horror, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjustsilver/pseuds/itsjustsilver
Summary: Helena Potter is a pureblood omega.Female Harry Potter / Tom RiddleAlternate Universe- Alpha Tom, Omega HarryNon-Con. Dark, dark, dark story. Please heed the tags, they do get updated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> New story- I will continue only if there's demand for it.  
> This is pretty AU. For plot purposes, Helena Potter is a Ravenclaw here.
> 
> Reminder that this will contain non-con, and Tom Riddle is not a nice person at best. Do not proceed if it upsets you.

Their boats glided serenely across the placid black waters. Beams of coloured light streamed from wandpoints into the night sky, answering the call of the stars. The water lapped against the wooden sides of the boats in peaceful regularity.

Everything was quiet and calm; the final, anticlimactic moment to the joyous event overtaken by a contented silence.

In many ways, it marked both the end and the beginning of a journey. Where their learning journey was ending, a new one was beginning. It was a journey into the unknown, and as the outline of the grand castle dwindled behind them, so too did the memories of the school begin to dwindle in the minds of the recent graduates as they turned their thoughts towards the unknown future.

For most of her classmates, the future was as opaque as the lake beneath them, and just as mysterious. But for Helena, it had all already been planned and plotted. The outline of her life had been drawn in by a hand not her own.

Well she was not going to go through with it. She was not going to. And when she, Helena Potter, had decided _not_ to do something, no one could make her.

Neville squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Helena whispered back. “I’m just thinking.” She tilted her head back to follow the line of her own light streaming from her wand. Up, up, it went, to pierce the heavens. She found the electric blue pinprick of her light among the other pinpricks of blues, greens, reds and yellows that her schoolmates were sending up. There it was, slowly entering the constellation of Serpens Caput.

“Head of the Snake,” she whispered. “Brightest star, Alpha Serpentis.”

Suddenly she wished she was very far away, far among the coldness of the stars.

“What was the point,” she commented bitterly to herself, her lips barely forming the words. “Of Astronomy, of Transfiguration, of all of it?”

Neville squeezed her hand again. She shifted her gaze away from the skies and back to him. His face was glowing in the gold haze thrown off by his own wand-beam and he was looking at her with deep affection.

It wasn’t even that she didn’t love him. She did love him, in a way. But love had nothing to do with it. Love never had anything to do with it. It had been planned since their births, and that it turned out that they loved each other was only a happy circumstance.

That was really what Helena rebelled against most- the idea of following a plan not her own, the idea of conforming, in walking in the shadow of someone perceived to be greater than her.

Perhaps that was why the ghost of the same name who haunted the tallest towers of Hogwarts had confided in her, her own unhappy tale.

“We have our whole lives ahead of us,” Neville said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We can do whatever we want now.”

 _"I do, I can,”_ sang her heart.

A slow chant started. Low and solemn at first, it began with the Gryffindors, those ever-loyal, before being caught up by the others, and gaining in volume and melody, and gaiety.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…”

Helena joined in, her sweet voice adding to the mix.

“You’ve taught us things worth knowing,

You’ve done your best, we’ll do the rest…”

She stopped and looked back, at the familiar turrets and towers and windows glowing with incandescent light.

‘Til in our graves we rot!” finished the rest of her schoolmates, in a joyous roar.

Long banners of silver, gold, bronze, and onyx bat and fluttered rapidly in the high winds. As she watched, one of the bronze-coloured banners was ripped violently from its rod and flew a distance, only to be caught and entangled in the heavy silver-threaded cloth of another banner.

The hovering mist closed over the school and Helena saw no more of it.

 

-

 

“Thanks, Lumpy,” said Luna on her right as she helped herself to servings of creamy gratin dauphinoise. The elf bowed low and stepped forward to offer the dish to Theo sitting on Luna’s right.

“Miss Potter?” squeaked a voice behind Helena.

“Oh, yes.” Helena turned to look at the platter of roasted asparagus drizzled in butter, rosemary, and garlic. She picked up the serving utensils and heaped the greens onto her plate. “Thanks, Dobby.”

“You’ve been distracted lately, Helena,” her father commented, to the room at large. “I’ve never seen her so self-preoccupied even during her NEWT studies.”

There were polite murmurs of assent. Neville shot her a concerned look from across the table.

“Post-graduation blues,” said Lord Nott, scratching his chin sagely. “I’ve seen it in my elder sons. One day they’re happy as a clam, and the next they’re lounging around the house, coming down to breakfast at eleven, and refusing to either support our business or go out and look for jobs. Not that you’ll have to of course, Helena.”

 _“Because you’re a pure-blooded witch,”_ was left unsaid. _“Because you’re an Omega.”_

“I’ve always found the younger generation to be…” began Lord Malfoy, putting down his fork with a delicate clink, “a little entitled…”

On her left, Draco leaned his head close to hers. The smell of young, un-presented Alpha, tart and cutting like unripe mangoes, wafted off him in waves. “Now you’ve done it,” he hissed. “You’ve gone and get my father started. Thanks for that.”

Helena flashed him a grin. “You don’t agree with your father then?”

“Of course not,” he replied loftily. “In fact, I do believe I’m not nearly entitled enough,” He wiggled his brows.

Helena chortled into her napkin. Draco swayed a little closer to her. He licked his bottom lip. “If I were-”

“Draco!” The urgent voice of his intended rang out across from them.

Everybody at the long table looked at her. There were bright spots of colour high on her cheeks.

“Yes, Daphne?” said Draco.

“Lady Longbottom was just telling me that Neville and Helena have yet to decide between Asia or Africa for their honeymoon. What do you think? Where should we go?” she said in a rush of breath.

“Anywhere you like,” Draco answered pleasantly.

Helena picked at her food sullenly. The level of insecurity Daphne must have been feeling had to have been so great that she’d let all that stupidity out of her head just to get her intended’s attention back on her. Un-bonded Omegas _hated_ all forms of public scrutiny.

And now she’d gone and dragged Helena into the fire with her.

“I don’t think,” said Luna to her, “that either Asia or Africa will turn out to be your choice.”

“No? You don’t think either would suit us?” Helena responded amiably, keeping the conversation flowing as she was taught. Normally Luna was on the nose with her observations but if she’d assumed Helena’s ill-humour revolved around the location of a honeymoon, then she was grossly in error.

“Those are two very large continents. I don’t think it would be wise to dismiss either without at least seeing some part of it,” said Lady Malfoy in alarm.

“Of course not,” Neville placated. “We will make sure to visit both after the wedding.”

The talk around them turned organically to weddings.

Helena tuned it out. Snatches of an animated debate taking place down the table between Theo, Luna, and Neville’s father reached her ear.

“… issue with adding fine Occamy at such a volatile stage…”

“… don’t personally know anyone to have successfully attempted a brew past the fourth…”

They were discussing Felix Felicis, a potion Theo had attempted as part of his NEWTs practical. The first three stages of the recipe were identical to both Sub-ardor and Init-ardor, the Heat suppressing and Heat triggering potions. All three were equally difficult and time consuming to brew, and equally costly.

“…don’t you think, dear?”

Helena blinked. A question had obviously been posed to her. “I- yes, I- sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Your gowns, my dear. Will you be wearing just three like Daphne or the traditional set of seven?”

“Seven is too old-fashioned but I don’t think I could wear just one gown to my own wedding,” mused Daphne, happy to be back in her own zone, with a topic she was comfortable with.

“I- uh, well…,” Helena looked around her for help. Draco was deep in discussion with both his father and her own, the men on that end of the table having long ago splintered into a different topic.

Neville gave her a lopsided smile. “There’s still a year to go, mum, I’m sure Helena hasn’t given it any thought yet.”

Helena sent him a grateful look.

“Nonsense,” cut in Lady Malfoy. “Every pure-blooded witch has dreamt about her wedding day since she could dream.”

All their plates magically wiped themselves clean, and bowls of sugar-dusted financiers and goblets of eton mess topped with delicate chocolate honeycombs appeared in front of each person.

Helena picked up the little spoon and smiled brightly. “I have been thinking about our wedding, of course.” She had, too. That wasn’t a lie.

Neville’s smile brightened.

Everything tasted like ash.


	2. Chapter 2

It was strange, how clear her mind had been, when she’d made the decision to go. Everything had seemed so straightforward, so obvious. But now, standing in the middle of her room, with all her things around her, and faced with the reality of doing it, of actually running away, suddenly it seemed like a crazy, impossible idea.

Suddenly it felt like she was being dramatic. Childish, even.

“But no,” she corrected herself. “I’m not _running_. I’m just… leaving for a bit.”

It didn’t make her feel better; it still felt like she was running.

She picked up her drawstring bag. Bottomless, and charmed to be weightless, it had probably cost the Longbottoms a fair galleon, and it occurred to her, with some shame, that she was being especially callous, using her fiancé’s gifts to escape her fiancé.

But what was she to do? It was one of the more functional things she owned. Inside it she had stashed a spare wand, an anything-plate that she had bought with months’ worth of pocket money for this occasion, a beaded reticule full of currency and the Gringotts key to her private account, along with the least restrictive clothing she owned.

She would have liked to bring her father’s invisibility cloak also, but it was in a chest in their dressing room and she didn’t dare sneak in to their chambers to borrow it.

Finally, on top of all that, she dropped in the map she had made, along with a small pocketknife. She also stuffed in her firebolt, which she’d hidden under her bed that evening, in anticipation of her secret departure.

Both the pocketknife and firebolts were gifts from her godfather Sirius, who was the only one who treated her like she was more than just a precious commodity, an Omega to be bartered in marriage.

What would his reaction be on finding out that she had gone?

Helena hesitated, then tore off a roll of parchment and scribbled a quick note.

_Be back in a week. Don’t worry._

_H.J.Potter_

Then she tucked her bag into one of the inner pockets of her travelling robe, and prepared to climb out of her window, like a reverse thief in the night.

 

-

It was dark and silent. Or would be, but for the atonal chirping of crickets and the bright moonlight suffusing the scene in a soft glow.

Helena was trudging through long wild grass, having long left the lovely stone pathways. She had already been walking for over an hour and a half, through gardens, and past ponds and woods.

She was starting to regret not having flown, but was afraid that it would attract some of the flying magical creatures that lived in their estate. The snidgets in particular loved to chase after her and might create such a racket that it would wake somebody.

The invisible perimeter was about a hundred metres ahead, but to be safe, Helena planned to walk at least another hundred and fifty metres before apparating.

Every time she stepped on a twig and it made a sharp crack, her heart would jump, in fear that one of their house-elfs had appeared to ask her just what she was doing. But no house-elf came, and Helena crossed the border without incident, leaving behind all the wards that would alert her household if she had apparated from within. Then, only, did she pull out her wand, turn on the spot, and disappear.

She re-appeared a second later in Diagon Alley, close to the International Apparition Centre, which even at two in the morning, was bustling with activity. She joined the queue at the counter.

“Where to?” said the gruff wizard on duty, when she’d reached the head of the queue.

“Forty-one, nineteen, nineteen, forty-nine,” replied Helena with nervous rapidity. She had never, before this, even visited Diagon Alley without an escort. Would they stop her from leaving? Would they call her parents? It wasn’t illegal, what she was doing, it wasn’t…

“Mm,” the wizard grunted, thumbing through his notebook. “Forty-one, nineteen, nine- ah. Gotcha. They speak Albanian there. You’ll be wanting a tranductor I s’ppose?”

“Yes.” Helena licked her dry lips. “Edible please. I also want the minority languages. One weeks’ worth.”

“Mm. Unless you’re trying to disguise yourself as a local, I recommend you go with one of the wearable tranductors instead. Much cheaper.”

She shrugged her acquiescence. “Sure.”

Anything to hurry this transaction along, before she got cold feet and went back home.

The wizard pulled out a catalog from which she selected a bracelet with an eagle charm, and he slid it to her over the counter. “That’ll be your portkey too,” he said. “All in it’s gonna cost you thirty galleons and nine sickles.”

Helena pulled out her reticule and counted out the correct amount for him. She took the bracelet and proceeded to the departure area and then into an empty cubicle pointed out to her by a security witch.

“You’ve read the list of items prohibited for export?” asked the witch in a bored tone. “You’re aware you’ll be subject to local laws in your destination country? Sign here, here, here. Great. Safe travels.”

The door was closed on her. Helena stood in the harsh artificial lighting of the cubicle, clutching the bracelet with sweaty hands.

She was going to go overseas, on her own. She was going to have an adventure! And she was going to, if all went according to plan, return a different woman.

There was a jerk behind her navel, a sensation of being pulled forwards and upwards, and then the world swirled.

 

-

 

The magical town of Qytet Yll was situated on elevated ground on top of a hill. From its highest point, one could see the muggle city spread out below like a pastel sea. The peaks of Mount Dajti loomed in the distance. Helena had been there less than two days and already she was utterly charmed.

She had spent the first day and a half exploring; tasting pastries oozing with cheese, spicy veal stews, and lemon glazed cakes, and browsing the stores vending their exotic ware. But now it was time to get serious. According to her calculations, she ought to be in position tomorrow night, during the blood moon, which meant she needed to be in the forest in the correct spot well before then.

Helena dodged a hippogriff-pulled carriage, a yellow tram, and a few cyclists going the opposite way. Crossing the roads in the magical quarters of Tirana it seemed, was a daily exercise in survival skills. Everyone went whichever direction they pleased, in whichever manner of transport pleased them.

She walked briskly until she reached a storefront advertising itself as a travel agency. A bell rang deep inside when Helena opened the door to step in.

A young man barely older than her stepped out from the staff room, wiping his hands on his shirt, and smiling jovially at her. “Please, please, sit.” He gestured towards one of the desks. “How can I help you?”

Helena sat. Moving pictures of lakes and mountains and ruins and wizarding villages covered the walls and tables. “I’d like someone to take me to one of the parks, please,” she said.

He sat across from her. “Yes, certainly. Albania is home to some of the most beautiful natural destinations in the world. You can join a tour to see Butrint Mag, and then-”

“I’d like to go to the Shades of Red Forest in Theth.”

“Ohoh, the young lady knows what she wants. There are two-day or four-day tours departing for Theth every Friday.” He handed her a timetable.

Helena’s heart dropped. “No, that won’t work. I want to be there tomorrow. Are there private guides that can take me?”

“By tomorrow?” He scratched his cheek and frowned. “Funny. Our private guide most familiar with Theth just took someone there last night. They haven’t come back.” He checked his ledger. “He also needed to be somewhere in Shades of Red by tomorrow. You don’t happen to be connected, do you? Frenchman by name of Vol de Mort.”

Helena shook her head. “No. I’m English. If no one’s available, I’ll check with another agency.”

The young man started protesting. “There’s no need for that, Miss. I can take you there myself. The other agencies don’t really know the place, believe me. I’m Rudi, by the way. What time would you like to go tomorrow?”

After they had settled the time and price, she walked out of the shop and back into the lively clamour of the streets of Qytet Yll. She walked absentmindedly, head down, going over the Grey Lady’s story once again, and repeating to herself the description of the spot where the exact tree could be found.

“A clearing, a single tree. Only accessible after argh!” She’d almost run into another person.

He grasped her immediately by the upper arm. Helena, in an effort to regain her balance, put her hands on his chest for balance, then looked up, an apology on her lips.

It was lost immediately, as the scent of his pheromones hit her and she gazed, stricken, up at him.

Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a short, dark, fucked up story, but ended up researching Albania for this. What am I doing?  
> Now I've written myself into a mood for travel. :/  
> Like this chapter? Let me know and I'll keep writing.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and kudos. New chapter for you.

_Alpha. Alpha!_

“Watch it-” he started to say, and then stopped also. He was an older man with curling brown hair just starting to grey at the temples. He smelled like a typical bonded Alpha, clean and minty. His grip tightened on her. He could tell what she was.

“Are you alone?” he demanded, with the authority natural to his type. He looked around them. “Where are your chaperones? Where are your guards?”

“I, I-”

The man frowned down at her. “Are you stupid, girl?” He shook her arm lightly. Then he saw the bracelet on her wrist. “A foreigner? Where are your family? Don’t you know not to go out alone?”

“I’m not alone!” lied Helena, finding her tongue and pulling away. “My fiancé is just in there.” She pointed in the direction of her hotel.

He released her but continued to scowl with suspicion. “It’s dangerous to have you walking the streets alone,” he repeated. “It’s dangerous for everybody. I don’t know about where you’re from, but here in Albania, there are too many presented Alphas still unbonded. If you let one of them catch you it’s too bad for your fiancé.”

“Yes I know,” said Helena, who hadn’t known. “I’ll go back now.”

“One of my nephews is unbonded,” he added, only just remembering. “Maybe you don’t want to wait for your fiancé to present. Maybe you should come meet him. We are a very rich, influential family-”

“No, no, oh there’s my fiancé!” said Helena quickly. The man turned around, and she took advantage of his distraction to cast a notice-me-not and slip away.

That had been an alarming encounter. Bonded Alphas were harmless to her, as harmless as the un-presented ones, those yet to undergo the physiological changes that altered their pheromones, and that made them more powerful in both the physical and magical sense.

Helena had never met an unbonded, full-grown Alpha, and didn’t intend to. In England, the ratio of Alphas to Omegas had always been one-to-one. They were paired off by their families before they even reached their third birthday and married shortly before the Alpha was full grown. Was there really a surplus of Alphas here? And what happened to them? Did they go around in public hunting Omegas?

Suddenly the open-air stalls with their vibrant hanging woven tapestries, menageries displaying cages of squawking birds of prey, and buildings splashed with murals, once eclectic and inviting, now seemed to her to have an air oppressive and frightening.

Helena spent the rest of the day in her suite in the hotel.

 

-

 

“We try to avoid climbing in altitude too rapidly,” said Rudi to her, when she’d asked why they couldn’t apparate immediately to one of the designated apparition points in the Shades of Red Forest.

He had plotted out four separate stops for them, climbing higher up the mountains of Theth, before ending eventually at the edge of Shades of Red. With two hours of rest at each stop, she would arrive at the forest around seven in the evening. It made sense then that the Frenchman headed for the same destination had chosen to leave almost two days in advance.

Helena cursed inwardly at her stupidity and lack of foresight. Between yesterday’s incident with the Alpha and this new setback in her journey, there was enough to suggest that the quest might not go as smoothly as she’d hoped it would. And that troubled her.

They were at the third stop, a small wizarding village with a population of less than five hundred. Its main tourist attraction was a statue of a man purported to contain the malevolent spirit of a jinn.

“Are there pureblood families living here?” asked Helena, looking up at the tormented expression on the face of the statue, and drawing her cloak around herself, despite the warmth of the uninterrupted sunshine.

“No, this is a poorer village,” her guide responded cheerfully. “If you are interested in visiting the pureblood estates, we can make a detour. There are two or three castles and ancient fortresses open for viewing in the area. The most beautifu-”

“No, no,” Helena stopped him hastily. “Tell me what you know about Shades of Red.”

Rudi was just as happy to delve into that subject. They sat on one of the metal benches scattered around the statue. “The thing to know,” he began, “is that the actual name for it is Heshtur, on account of the jobberknolls that live there. It is in fact home to the largest silence of jobberknolls in all of Europe.”

Helena had touched briefly on that as part of her research but hadn’t been interested in further reading.

“There are many visitors to Heshtur,” he continued. “Or Shades of Red. However you want to call it. People try to collect the feathers for potions, and sometimes the eggs although of course that’s illegal. But twice a year, there are almost no visitors to Heshtur. During the season of death.” He checked his watch. “We can move on.”

“Excuse me?” said Helena. “Did you say death?” She had not read anything about _that._ They stood up. Hera squeezed her drawstring bag. She had developed that habit since having left home; the familiar weight and shape of it was comforting.

“Yup. We’re in the-” He took her hand and they whirled out of existence and back, popping into a different part of Theth. “-middle of one of the seasons. Not many want to go now. It’s bad luck to hear one of them dying, they say. My cousin once-.”

Helena looked at him admiringly. “Don’t you feel the nausea at all? I’ve never met someone who can talk while apparating.”

He brushed it off. “You do it ten times a day like I do, you get used to it.”

Helena shuddered. “I hate apparating. I’d rather fly, even if it takes longer to get there.”

“We can fly the rest of the way if you want,” he offered. “Makes no difference to me. But depending on wind speed and direction, it might take us up to four hours.”

Helena declined. She’d looked at their route that morning, contemplating that exact thing; it was not impossible, but she couldn’t afford to lose those hours.

The last stop featured a colossal series of cascading waterfalls and was in the middle of a popular hiking trail. Helena sat on the mossy ground of one of the banks and pulled out her anything-plate and homemade map.

She uprooted a few small plants and piled them onto the plate. “Shepherd’s Pie,” she commanded, poking the plate with her wand. The savoury aroma of mash and marinated meat filled the air as the plants transformed rapidly into the requested dish.

Rudi had gone off to chat and eat with fellow guides as and when one would pass by in the lead of a tour group. He came back at the end of their two hours.

“Listen,” she said, folding up her map casually, after having studied it for what felt like the thousandth time. She had been wondering all day how she was going to shake him off once they arrived at the forest. “About the death season…” She stuffed the map into the bag and drew its mouth close.

“Season of Death?”

“Yes, about that. It really wouldn’t be necessary for you to accompany me into the forest. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of bad luck to you. And anyway I know exactly what I’m doing. You could wait for me outside.”

He demurred, waving his hands about, and looking appropriately affronted. “I’m your guide, Miss Helena, of course I take you. And I brought these earplugs that we can wear.”

He showed them to her. Helena recognized them as the same model commonly used in Herbology to protect against Mandragoras and Bryonia Albas.

“That’s great,” said Helena unenthusiastically. “But there’s also something rather personal I’ve got to do…”

“Oh.” His face lit up with understanding, and he nodded quickly, whispering, “say no more. This isn’t really the season to be finding eggs, quite the opposite, but if you do, just be very careful not to let the parents see. They never forget a face, you know… And obviously, it’s not one hundred percent legal, but you’re my very special client.”

Great. Not only did he now suspect she was there to try and steal some of the coveted jobberknoll eggs but was also willing to turn a blind eye for the sake of the high fees she was paying him.

He apparated them to their final destination.

 

-

 

Shades of Red was a beech forest in the alpine floor of Theth National Park, at a little over 2,500 metres above sea level. It stuck out from the generally flat and green landscape of pine bushes and junipers, resembling a red, woody outcrop. The natural tree-line was much, much further down the mountains. Shades of Red defied nature. But magic, Helena had to suppose, was by its definition defiance against nature.

Another thing that made the forest unique, and that gave it its widely-used moniker, was that the leaves of the trees were, no matter the season, always decked out in their autumnal colours.

Helena had left her guide at the border. “Okay,” he had said, “I’ll wait here- send sparks if you need me. Not red sparks, I’ll never be able to see. Ha ha.”

Just ten minutes in, Helena had known she was in trouble. Plotting out a site on paper was very, very different to doing the actual treasure hunt.

The route, clear and obvious on a map, was almost impossible to locate on the ground. All the plants looked frustratingly similar, and pathways and markers that had existed during the Grey Lady’s time had now changed or altogether disappeared.

The forest was eerily quiet. Incredibly sensitive to sound, jobberknolls localised and hunted their prey with stunning speed and accuracy. Their prey had evolved to become just as mute, and just as covert in their movements.

It had been almost an hour, and Helena had yet to see a single other living being. The sunlight filtered through the foliage and saturated the world in red. The heavy silence was interrupted only by the loud crunch of dry leaves beneath her feet as she traipsed along the winding dirt paths.

Stopping at where there should have been a gnarled tree with branches fanning out like an open palm, Helena laid her wand flat on her palm. “Point me.”

It swiveled to point her in the direction she had come from. Helena turned back. Had she missed this tree? It all looked the same to her.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled out her wand again. “Point me.”

The wand trembled but didn’t move.

“I don’t understand,” whispered Helena. She looked around and then up, before realising with an excited start, that she was standing at the base of a tree with four branches that formed the fingers of a mutilated hand. The branch that should have been the ring finger had broken off.

“Yes,” said Helena, swallowing a whoop of joy. “ _Yes._ ” From here she had to walk approximately 3.5 kilometres to a creek with a boulder formation that would look like a stooping Hippogriff but only if approached from the correct direction.

The sun was beginning to fall, adding deep shadows to the red scene. The sky was streaks of yellow, orange, and blue, and could be seen in patches through the high canopy. The moon was already visible high in the sky. It had been twenty minutes since the diadem had become available for retrieval and would remain accessible for about another twelve hours.

There was no way she would miss the window. Helena walked, listening for the sounds of the creek.

There was a quiet flurry to her right, somewhere in the trees. It was only due to Helena’s Quidditch training that she caught the movement in her periphery. She froze, startled.

It was a jobberknoll, alone and perched on a branch. Its natural ombre blue coat looked purplish in the tinted red light. It stared at her beadily, blinked, then opened its beak incredibly wide, and stretched out its neck to the sky like a baby bird seeking food.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The sound, a male sound, reverberated through the trees.

Helena threw herself onto the ground, heart pattering. Where, _what-_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I said this chapter will get dark, but due to some world building, we didn't get to meet Tom Riddle yet. We will see him next chapter. Please remember, this fic will contain rape and violence. Check tags, and do not proceed if you do not want to read those types of scenes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments for last chapter. It really means alot to me.
> 
> Last warning: This story contains rape and violence. Remember to check tags. Please do not continue if such scenes offend and/or disturb you.  
> For everyone else, enjoy.

Helena had very shamefully forgotten her wand. She fumbled in her cloak and drew it out. There was silence. If anyone was around, they were out of view.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Another male- another voice, sharp and frightened.

Helena flattened herself this time against the base of a tree. No one showed themselves. Strange. The jobberknoll was still there. Its throat was moving convulsively. Its beak was open.

“You’ve been very helpful.” The first male’s voice resounded around her.

Helena stared wide-eyed at the bird. The voices must be coming from it. So, this must be a dying jobberknoll, projecting all the sounds it had ever heard backwards.

“What is that? Just one more thing. Perfect. In perfect condition blood it needs blood are yousurereveliothisistherightplacehounnisshoubonosevewondofthemagiwuh-.”

It regurgitated more voices, in increasing speed until finally all the words jumbled together and became unintelligible. And still the jobberknoll let loose a stream of sound. Then it exploded suddenly and without warning.

Helena screeched and shielded herself, as a cloud of feathers floated to the ground.

She looked frantically around for any more of those cursed birds, then began fleeing the area, fear pushing her into a state of near-hysteria. There had been a murder! That jobberknoll had witnessed it!

Only when Helena had reached a gully and could go no further did she come to a reluctant halt. She breathed harshly from her panicked running and from the added discomfort of being at such high altitude.

“Just keep calm,” she muttered to herself, in between wheezing pants. “Just keep calm. We don’t know if the murder was even successful, the spell could have missed.” She shuddered. “And besides it could have overheard that weeks ago. Nobody’s in these woods now.”

And for good reason.

She heaved with nausea and laughed shakily, admonishing herself internally for her cowardice. “What would I do if I were witness to an actual murder?” She put her hand out to steady herself against a large mossy rock. Even the moss was red. It looked like dried blood. “No one’s here,” she tried to reassure herself. “Just me.”

She straightened. It was even more important to find the diadem quickly now. Soon the forest would be pitch black. The temperature had already dropped dramatically. Her breath fogged the air. She had luckily run in the correct direction. Now where was the creek?

“Point me,” she whispered to her wand. It trembled and oscillated as she turned.

Helena looked confusedly about her. There was no sound of running water. Just this deep gully with its carpet of red leaves and these giant rocks in front of her that…

…formed the rough shape of a stooping Hippogriff! The creek had dried out since the Grey Lady’s time.

Almost there then.

“North-west,” she directed her wand. “Point me!”

It pointed her.

 

-

 

Nightfall was slowly turning the vibrant reds of the forest into somber blacks. It was not yet completely dark, but Helena had her wand casting a wide beam of light in front of her. The next marker was a tree stump that required a blood offering and might be easy to miss.

There was another flurry of movement above her. She looked up. Another jobberknoll had come.

“Go away,” shooed Helena. Her heart was beginning to hammer again. “Go and die somewhere else.” She flashed the bright torch of her wand at it and it flew off in a silent flutter of wings.

There was a change in wind direction. The breeze came suddenly to lift the hair around her face.

She could just detect some new scent in it, something completely apart from the musky, woodsy smell of the forest. It came on and off to her as she walked.

There it was again.

It was a wonderfully sweet, citrusy fragrance, like someone in her vicinity was juicing mandarins.

How strange.

Helena stopped and took deep breaths of it. It came from ahead and to the left.  

Having seen what she’d seen, she knew now it was impossible that there would be anyone else but her- _foolish, foolish Helena_ \- in this horrid forest of screaming, exploding birds, and still more impossible that there would be anyone purposelessly pressing juice within its bloody-hued depths.

But, as though one entranced, she abandoned her course to follow the increasing intensity of the sweet-smelling trail.

Presently she walked into a small clearing. If her senses had not flown the coop, she might have recognised where she was from the description given her by the Grey Lady, but she had already forgotten what she had come for in the first place.

The only thing that registered was that this was where the wonderful smell originated from.

The clearing was already occupied. A dark-haired man was kneeling close to a single gnarled tree in the middle. He bent over a body lying prone on the ground. His hands were busy.

Helena walked towards them, lungs inflating greedily.

The man’s head snapped up in predatory alertness. A wand flicked and a lance of light accompanied his voice. “Praepedio.”

Helena ducked, narrowly avoiding the curse.

The strange lure of the scent was pushed to the back of her brain. The spell was broken. Panic, insistent panic, coursed through her. His voice! She’d heard it before, issuing from the mouth of a jobberknoll.

The man was striding up to her, having already started moving the same moment he’d launched the offensive. In a second, he had tackled and was straddling her, the point of his wand digging into her chin.

“What are you?” he asked fiercely. He was as red as everything else in the forest. His eyes glowed red.

Helena blinked uncomprehendingly at him. “What?”

He forced her chin up higher with his wand. His nostrils flared. “Why do you smell like this?” he demanded accusingly.

“It’s not me, it’s you!” cried Helena. “I only followed the scent here.”

It came to him first.

“Omega,” he whispered wonderingly. He withdrew his wand.

“You’re an Alpha,” Helena choked out. “Unbonded?”

As if he could be anything else.

He ignored her. “Don’t move,” he warned. He bent to trace her jaw with his nose. Helena closed her eyes, wanting to turn her head aside, but not wanting to further expose the vulnerable expanse of her neck to him.

“I’ve never smelled anything so good,” he growled into her skin. “So this is what I’ve been denied.” His tongue darted out to taste her flesh.

Panic gave her spirit. Helena rammed her head violently upwards into his with a cry. He grunted in surprise and fell back, loosening his hold on her. One hand went up to clutch at his forehead. She scrambled out from beneath him.

“Help, help!” she pleaded, running towards the other man, the one still lying unmovingly on the ground. “You have to help me, please!” She slid to her knees in front of him, and shook him by the arm, then drew back in horror.

The man was a corpse. The skin upwards of his torso had been meticulously peeled back, like the skin of a grape. His chest displayed broken white ribs under a wall of muscle. There were dark craters where his eyes should have been. His mouth was wide open and empty. His teeth and tongue were gone.

Helena screamed and screamed. She whipped around. The Alpha was approaching.

“Naughty Omega,” he chastised. “He can’t help you. Only I can. Come here.”

She pulled out her wand with a quaking hand. “Stupefy!”

He redirected the spell with a motion of the wrist. It crashed harmlessly into the ground. “You’re making me very angry,” he said, voice lilting pleasantly, and handsome face smiling like they were just playing a game. “I was going to give you a clean death after, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “You fucking lunatic.”

He dove for her, sending them both tumbling. Helena shrieked and fired up a shower of vivid blue sparks. The sun had set, and the ascending blue lights illuminated the dark woods around them like a display of fireworks.

Jobberknolls, hundreds of them, sat watching on the branches of the surrounding trees like a legion of creepy sentinels.

That was the last straw. Helena screamed, loud and piercingly. The Alpha had her pinned under him. He snatched her wand. One hand restrained both her wrists over her head. “Who did you call?”

“The birds, the birds!” Helena shrieked, losing her head completely.

He looked bewildered. “The birds...?” He tossed his head back to peer into the trees. “They’re just jobberknolls. They’re harmless.” He slapped her when she continued to scream insensibly.

Her head jerked back. Momentarily stunned, Helena could only blink speechlessly. He waited patiently for her to recover. “Who did you call? Who’s coming?”

“My fiancé,” Helena lied boldly. “He’s going to kill you, so you better run.”

“Nice lie,” he laughed. “I don’t think your fiancé knows where you are. No one in their right mind would let their unbonded Omega go anywhere alone.” And consciously or unconsciously he rested more of his weight possessively on her. Helena could feel his arousal through the fabric of their clothes, thick and monstrous.

The scintillating sparks of her distress signal extinguished and they were plunged into darkness. She could hear the dry crackle of leaves shifting around them as she wriggled futilely.

“Get off me,” she wailed. Of all the unbonded Alphas she could have run into, she had stumbled on the murderous psychopath. Or were they all like that? Was that why they married them off so immediately- to curb their savage instincts? Helena hadn’t known. There was so much she hadn’t known…

She continued struggling until he locked his mouth unexpectedly to hers. He bit at her lips and she opened for him with a startled cry of pain. Then he pushed his tongue in and ran it across the roof of her mouth.

Helena shivered at the sensation. Involuntary arousal, unfamiliar and unexpected, began to curl deep within her belly

The Alpha pressed his hips forwards to grind against her centre. Her legs parted instinctively to accommodate him. He hummed his approval into her mouth and his tongue swiped in again to nudge hers. She tasted her own blood.

He began to gather the hem of her robes, lifting it past her knees.

“It’s cold,” she stuttered, her frozen brain attempting an out- _any_ out. “Stop, stop…”

He paused. “ _Calesco_ …” Warmth spread from him to her. He continued to lift her robe up to her hips. His face was hidden in her neck. “Is that better, sweetheart?”

She trembled in mute fear, eyes fixed on the open night sky. Why did she ever leave home? What had she been thinking?

His searching hand dipped between her thighs and brushed against her dampening cloth-covered slit and she gasped at the sudden flare of pleasure. Her hips jerked.

“Is that better?”

There was a corpse right beside them, a gruesome, mangled corpse. If she turned her head _just so_ , she would be looking directly into its pitted face. Overhead, the darkness of the trees concealed hundreds of watching birds.

He rubbed her slowly. Her mouth slackened. Her hips raised. It was hard to focus on anything else.

The alpha wore some kind of bulky ring on one hand. It bit into her inner thigh as he wormed long slender fingers through the band of her knickers.

“You’re so wet, so wet and warm,” he murmured. He slid his finger experimentally through her folds. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” A finger pushed into her slick channel, and then another. He crooked them inside her, nails digging into her soft walls. “I asked you a question, Omega.”

Helena arched away with a miserable cry. “No,” she protested, fighting the haze of pleasure. “No, I- I don’t want to die…”

She felt his lips curl into a cruel smile against her shoulder. “Hush now. That comes later.” He pulled his fingers out of her and began pushing her knickers down her thighs. “And if you play nice, I’ll make it quick and painless, how’s that?”

Helena Ravenclaw herself had died here, murdered by the Alpha that she had rejected. He had hunted her down and raped her and finally lost control and spilled her blood. Alphas were notoriously carnal beings; they frequently forewent magic in favour of physical domination.

And this unknown Alpha, looming over her in shades of red, could just as well be her very own Bloody Baron. He likely was a local baron in fact.

Wouldn’t that be portentously appropriate… She was going the way of her namesake. She was going to die like her.

“You might as well kill me now,” she seethed, renewing her struggles. The only thing worse than being murdered was being raped then murdered. “I’ll never-”

All at once, he covered her mouth forcefully with his hand, pushing her head into the ground. He appeared to be listening. He looked about them. His other hand let go of her wrists to reach behind him. He drew his wand out. “Don’t make a-”

Helena screamed into his palm, rearing up to claw at his face. He backhanded her, eyes glittering with rage, but it was too late.

There was an answering call. Helena twisted her neck in its direction.

Even under the weak glow of moonlight, everything under the leafy crown of the enchanted forest was stained red. A searching beam of wand-light swung around the base of the trees at the periphery of the clearing. Someone was coming.

“Miss Helena?” Rudi’s voice, anxious but unsuspecting of the danger, reached them. Helena had never been so relieved to hear another person’s voice.

The Alpha stiffened. “Helena?” he echoed. He frowned uncertainly down at her.

“Rudi!” screamed Helena. “Help! Over here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU's version of Harry is pampered and is nowhere near as good at DADA, as you can see.  
> I find canon Voldemort to be much too detached and doesn't 'get his hands dirty' (a trait I am struggling with remaining true to in Corruption, for those who read that.) This AU's version of Tom Riddle, due to Alpha nature, is much more physical, so actually, more fun to write.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave a comment to let me know what I'm doing right, and the show will go on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience. Hope you like this.

She heard the crunching of leaves under heavy boots as Rudi made his way closer. The Alpha made no attempt to leave. He rested his full weight on Helena’s lower body, trapping her.

Her guide appeared at the edge of the clearing. The dark-haired Alpha trained his wand carefully on him. Silver arrows shot swiftly out of it.

“What the-,” Rudi started to say, throwing up his wand also, and only just managing to deflect the curse.

“Help!” screamed Helena immediately, all her hope centred on the only other living person there. “Please help!”

“Quiet, you,” the Alpha hissed to her. His handsome face was contorted into something feral as he set his eyes on the newcomer. His other hand attempted to gather Helena’s pummeling fists.

Rudi was hiding behind a thick, vaguely transparent shield. He peeked his eyes over the side of it. “What’s going on?” he called out, panic straining his voice. “Is this a- are you- you’re Alpha and Omega? You’re purebloods?”

“Yes,” screamed Helena, twisting away from her captor’s grip. What did it _matter_ what they were? “Help me!”

“Oh!” The panic dropped cleanly away from Rudi’s voice, and for a short moment, Helena latched optimistically on to it, until-

“But it’s illegal to interfere in pureblood affairs, my Lady.” Her guide cleared his throat awkwardly. “Especially not in uh, claimings and such. It’s the law my Lady.” He paused while the struggling couple absorbed the significance of his words. “Should I still wait for her at the apparition point my Lord?”

There was a rumbling in the Alpha’s chest. He was laughing. The sound vibrated through him. “No,” he commanded. “Leave.”

Rudi dropped his shield. He turned to go.

Helena was so flabbergasted that she didn’t know how to react for a second. Then- “He killed someone!” she shouted desperately. The corpse was hidden from Rudi’s sight by the angle; blocked by their own bodies. “There’s a dead man here. And he’s going to kill me!”

Rudi stopped, clearly alarmed. He began to do a half turn, wand hand coming up again. But his hesitancy cost him.

The Alpha swung his wand in a practiced motion. “Avada Kedavra.” A flash of bright green lit the clearing. Her guide crumpled unceremoniously to the ground. Helena screamed.

And as if watching the event triggered some code in their genetic makeup, the jobberknolls camped in the trees around them began to die also.

There was an explosion of sound. Her screams caterwauled back at her from all directions, along with the Alpha’s voice, multiplied ten times over.

_“Avada Kedavra._

_Avada Kedavra._

_Avada Kedavra!”_

The Alpha covered her mouth with his hand. “It’s your fault he’s dead,” he taunted in her ear.

Helena continued to scream insensibly, screwing her eyes shut. A wand jabbed against her temple. There was a flash of red behind her eyelids, and then darkness fell over her like a shroud.

 

-

 

The scent of oranges, fresh and aromatic, snaked its way into her sleep, dreamless but for their constant olfactory presence. It brought with it a restlessness and urgency that plagued the mire of insentience.

Helena came into consciousness with a parched mouth, an aching body, and the lingering impression of having spent all that uncertain amount of time fleeing at full speed instead of sleeping. She jolted, muscles seizing and eyes flying open.

A high-domed roof constructed almost entirely of white canvas greeted her. A teak ceiling fan hung low rotated in a lazy rhythm.

On her left, somebody shifted. Helena didn’t need to turn to know who was with her. The tent was saturated in his very particular essence and was at least partially responsible for why she felt so, so unbearably thirsty.

She didn’t turn. She leaped up to run- or tried to. Her upper body rose from the bed easily enough, and she twisted to the right, realising somewhere between waking and moving, that she was _naked_ , but not caring, because the most important thing to do was to _run_ , and then found that she was physically unable to leave the bed.

A cry of alarmed frustration was wrenched from her chest as she tried multiple ways to work herself free.

From behind her, the Alpha spoke with studied calmness. “It’s a simple linking spell. Some hospitals call it a bed-rest spell. Prevents their more difficult patients from taking off unexpectedly.”

Dread bubbled up in her at the sound of his voice. It was impossible to ignore him anymore. Helena turned then, clutching the sheets to her chest.

The Alpha was sitting on a chair by the bed, legs apart with one foot bent under his other thigh, and elbows resting on his knees. He was dressed nothing like a wizard. He wore a white linen shirt with cuffs rolled up to the elbows. Dark blue trousers encased his legs.

Out of those cursed red woods, he might have passed for a normal man, dark-haired and strikingly handsome with a straight Greek nose and a slight dimple to the chin. But his eyes remained a fiery red.

What Helena would pay to never see that colour again…

He held her tranductor, the bracelet with the eagle charm. His fingers ran smoothly along it like it was a rosary.

Helena’s eyes slid wildly around. Her robes and outer cloak lay draped on a chair by the doorway. A large porthole window behind the bed was dark; they were deep into the night. On the table behind him, in the light thrown off by a copper lamp, there was her drawstring bag, her wand, and a gleaming silver tiara.

She sucked in her breath.

A light sparked in his eyes. “I see you know what that is,” he said. His fingers paused their repetitive movement.

He had her tranductor, and she could understand him. Then that meant his English was natural and not translated. He spoke it perfectly, and in a clipped accent; he could pass for any one of the English Lords she had spent her life around.

He might have been sent away to be schooled at Hogwarts. Perhaps he could be reasoned with.

“Helena,” he added lightly. “Any relation to the founder?”

Helena’s eyes remained fixed on the tiara. Was that what she thought it was? “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Suddenly his tone was sharp and caustic, making her heartrate spike in response. Then it became light again; almost friendly. “Did you know that Rowena Ravenclaw had a daughter named Helena?”

Helena scoffed. “Everyone knows that. I think it might even have been the only reason I was put in Ravenclaw.” The sorting hat had chuckled to itself before placing her, like it was privy to a joke she would never be able to understand.

He laughed, the sound rich and rolling and somehow hollow at the same time. “I’ve always hated that stupid hat.” So she had guessed right.

She looked back at him with mild surprise. “You went to Hogwarts too.”

“Yes,” he answered simply.

Had that blasted Grey Lady lied about having told her story to no one else? Evidently. Helena swore to herself that if she died here, she was going to come back as a ghost and haunt her.

A ghost haunting a ghost.

She pushed down her own macabre appreciation of her own macabre joke. “Why do you hate it? What house did it sort you in to?”

A dark look crossed his face. “Into my house,” he said, with so much embittered possessiveness it sounded like he was positively spitting acid. He’d pronounced those few words with more vitriol than he’d pronounced the killing curse.

And Helena didn’t understand why; didn’t care to. She only wanted to get out, alive, and go home.

What could she say to help her case? Should she try to bribe him? Beg him? Dozens of half-constructed possibilities ran through her mind before she settled on, “I’m not going to tell anyone about those people you killed.”

Now his brow raised slightly as if to say, _“Oh, yes?”_

She swallowed. “I don’t care about them. You don’t have to silence me or- or anything like that. And if you want you could just obliviate me and let me go…”

His lips pulled up in a polite smile, pulling Helena’s hopes up with it. “But sweetheart,” he elucidated patiently, “you didn’t think I went through all that trouble to undress you just to then obliviate you and send you on your merry way, did you?”

The cold thrill of certainty that her doom had come upon her ran down her back. Helena hugged her knees to her chest. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to sound tough. Her voice shook.

“Well Helena, I confess myself intrigued by your very timely presence at Shades of Red. Very intrigued… Suspicious, even.” He leaned back in his chair. “So why don’t you start by answering a few easy questions.”

He drew his wand from behind him and placed it on his lap. “And sweetheart, you will not like it if I have to ask them a second time, so I hope for your sake you answer fast and you answer truthfully…”

Helena’s eyes moved from his face to his wand and back.

“What do you know of Horcruxes?”

 _Horcruxes?_ Helena pressed her lips together anxiously. She tried to think back on everything she knew, but her brain was both running so quickly and not running at all.

He sighed. In a flash, he’d jumped up, wrenched the sheets partially off her, and seizing her wrist, dragged her towards him.

Helena screamed in terror. His wand moved, point down on her exposed left forearm. It was followed by an excruciating pain that felt like the sharpest of blades was slicing through her skin. Terror morphed into terrified agony as he carved into her, and then blackness swallowed her again.

He must have revived her very quickly after; warm blood was running down her arm and staining the bed red. Whatever he had done still stung and burned horrifically; her nerves screamed out to her for relief.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her belly heaved with each gasping sob.

“What do you know of Horcruxes?” he asked again, calmly retaking his seat. His pale yew wand was back in his lap, spotlessly clean.

“Nothing,” Helena wailed, fear bursting throughout her body. He wasn’t going to believe her. It was the truth, but he wasn’t going to believe her; the way he’d asked it, he seemed so sure she knew what Horcruxes even were.

But he seemed to accept her words at face value. “Did someone send you to follow me?”

“No, no one.” She was a mess of tears and blood and nerves.

“No one told you I was going to be there?”

Helena shook her head frantically. “No one, I swear. I don’t even know who you are. The travel agency said a Frenchman was there, that was all.”

He frowned. “A Frenchman?”

“Yes, he wanted to be there on the same day.” She hiccupped an ugly sob. “I- I don’t know. Vol de Mort, I think his name…”

The Alpha smiled. His eyes crinkled. He looked almost amused.

Helena wiped her face with her uninjured arm, while watching every little change in his facial muscles with trepidation. How could someone so attractive be so insane?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our Tom's a paranoid lad isn't he?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised someone a longer chapter this weekend so here you go. We also have a chapter count now, although that is just an estimate.
> 
> If you're still reading, you're probably ok with the dark themes of this story, but in case you have forgotten, then please know that
> 
> this chapter is at least 50% porn and this story in general contains violence, gratuitous sex scenes, torture, and rape. (check tags)
> 
> If any of the above scares you, do not continue reading.
> 
>  
> 
> For everyone else, enjoy.

Seconds crawled by as he blinked and smiled quietly to himself. Then flaming scarlet eyes refocused on her. “What were you doing in Shades of Red? Did the Headmaster tell you to go there?”

“Who- Professor Dumbledore?” Helena shook her head again. She was going to shake her head right off her shoulders. “No. I’ve- I don’t think I’ve even talked to him…”

Why would the Headmaster want to tell anyone to go to Shades of Red? He was eccentric, yes, but even this would be too eccentric for him.

“Did any of the Lords send you?”

“No, I told no one I was coming here.” Her hairline was becoming sticky with nervous sweat. “I know it looks like I was spying on you, but I wasn’t, I swear.”

What had she gotten herself into? _Who was this man?_

“Then what were you doing there?”

“Same as you, I was looking for the diadem.” She’d fancied herself so clever, going after the diadem, so clever with all her planning…

“Why?”

Helena hesitated.

He clicked his tongue, getting up again.

She scooted back. “No, don’t,” she cried. She threw herself back as far as the bed would allow her. Blood smeared across the sheets. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Your arm, Helena.” He remained where he was, one hand held out. “You don’t want to keep me waiting.”

Helena shook her head. “No, _no_...”

The Alpha climbed onto the bed. It dipped under his weight. He caught the wailing girl by the ankle and dragged her to him. “Naughty, naughty girl... You need to be taught a lesson in obedience. Luckily for you, I’m quite adept at dispensing…” He sucked his own lower lip into his mouth with a lewd sound. “…corrections.”

He trapped her left arm under his knees. “Hold still. We don’t want your arm to accidentally break, do we?”

Cowed by the new threat, Helena kept her arm as still as she could while he began cutting into it anew, passing over the fresh wounds one more time. Her pained screams left her hoarse throat in drawn out peals. Her trapped hand trembled. The heady notes of mandarin and orange blossom mixed with the metallic smell of her blood.

She must have passed out again, because the next thing she knew, he was lightly smacking her face, his own hovering just above. “You still with me, sweetheart?” He tapped her on the temple with his index finger. “How will you learn if you keep going away, hmm?”

Helena exhaled shakily. The fabric of his clothes was loosely grazing her bare skin. Warmth emanated from his body. Green eyes roved searchingly over his face. There was nothing in there to suggest any sliver of humaneness existed in him. “I’m thirsty,” she whispered piteously to herself.

It was a gnawing thirst, almost overriding the pain in intensity.

“I’m sure you are.” He leaned back on his haunches. “But we’ve only just started.” The point of his wand pressed into her sliced skin. It slid in deeper, eliciting another raw-throated scream. “Why were you looking for the diadem? Talk fast and I’ll move fast.”

Helena sobbed convulsively. “I wanted it to tell me how to become normal. Please, _please_ …”

The Alpha paused, lifting his wand. He cocked his head, brows contracting slightly. “How to be normal? What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t want to be an Omega. I hate it.” Her tearful confession left her in tremulous, stilted syllables. “I ran away, I- I don’t want to be married, I don’t want my life tied, I don’t want to change…”

That seemed to surprise him. He observed her interestedly, like she was a specimen he’d read about, and having come across for the first time, discovered was nothing at all like what he’d imagined to be.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, lips curling up in amused derision. “You must have been desperate.”

Her forearm was growing numb with the amount of pressure he was laying on it; she could almost pretend she didn’t feel the pain anymore. “Yes… It’s the truth, I swear it. I swear it…”

It was the truth; she had been so desperate. And for what? All her prior problems seemed so insignificant now in the face of her suffering.

He laughed suddenly, making Helena flinch with fear. “You looked for the diadem because you didn’t want to die.” An expression resembling fondness softened his face.

That was a poetic way of putting it. After all, Neville wasn’t likely to die soon. But she wasn’t going to disagree with him. “Yes, I don’t want to die…”

She _didn’t_ want to die- not now, not here.

“You don’t _ever_ want to die,” he corrected her, still smiling that unnaturally warm smile. Then he bent his head to kiss her lightly on the corner of her downturned mouth.

Helena laid still and accepted his kiss, and when he lifted his head to look in her eyes again, she asked, tremblingly, if he was going to kill her now.

“That depends on you, Helena,” he murmured, kissing her again, deceptively softly, as if they were not right now discussing murdering her. “If you please me, I’ll reward you.”

He moved his weight off her injured arm to lay his body alongside hers. The distinctly male part of him, bulky and hard, pressed against her hip. “Do you want to please me?”

She nodded quickly. She would entertain whatever crazy fancies he had if it brought any hope of survival.

“Then undress me.”

Red specks and blotches of her blood decorated the light material of his shirt. She pulled at it with fumbling, nervous hands, not eager to reignite his deadly anger. She had to go along with whatever he wanted. She had to.

He graciously lifted his arms to help her. At his belt and trousers, she was lost. She’d never seen anything like them up close before. He showed her how to undo the buckle and button and zip.

“Are you- are you from here?” she asked, tugging at the tight material of his trousers with stiff, uncooperative fingers. Her voice was squeaky with nervous tension.

He smirked, watched her struggle to undress him. “I’m British, same as you.”

“I know everyone in the families. I don’t know you.”

“I’m a half-blood,” he offered, impatiently kicking off his trousers that Helena had inexpertly bunched around his ankles.

“Impossible,” breathed Helena, forgetting her situation for a moment. “There are no half-blood Alphas.”

“Well I am,” he said darkly. He nudged her. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

His pants now also gone, Helena knelt between his spread, muscular thighs and tried not to cry at the sight of his erection greeting her.

“Wrap your hand around it.”

She did as she was told, gingerly holding him by the root with one delicate hand.

“Other hand,” he demanded sadistically.

Helena changed hands to grip him with her injured side. Slowly congealing blood ran sluggishly down to her wrist. She looked questioningly at him.

“Poor Omega,” he said, reaching out to tuck a curl of errant hair behind her ear. “Have you never done this before?”

She shook her head. The tears spilled from her eyes.

Her head was pushed firmly down. Her lips brushed the fleshy head of his cock.

“Open up,” he instructed, and she parted her mouth to take him in.

It was soft and firm, smooth and ridged, and it smelled as desirable as the rest of him. Her tongue curled curiously around its dome-like head.

“Do I have the honour of being your first?” he teased. “Will your fiancé still accept you after we’re through here? Ah, I forgot… You ran away from your fiancé.” He laughed a soft, mirthless laugh. “You ran right into me. Aren’t we lucky?”

Neville would not turn her away. Dear sweet, kind Neville. What had he done to deserve an ungrateful, disloyal friend like her? Why-

The Alpha flexed his hips, sending his member sliding suddenly into her throat, and Helena choking and withdrawing.

“Don’t go away again, sweetheart,” he warned. His thumb brushed her cheek. “I want your eyes on mine.”

“O-okay…” Helena licked her lips and took him in her mouth again, keeping her eyes glued to his, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

Red, red, all shades of red. She slurped clumsily, watching the red change from spilt wine to molten lava as she bobbed up and down on his pole now shining with her spit. He guided her head, setting the pace. Her bare nipples rubbed against his thigh as she moved.

The open desire in his eyes was doing things to her, making her feel strangely weak, making her centre become shamefully wet and her open mouth hungrier for more of him.

Helena squeezed her thighs together, focusing on the tingling in her nipples. It was beginning to feel good. Worse, and most shamefully, knowing she was entirely at his mercy gave her a sick sense of pleasure, and soon she was lustily and mindlessly sucking on him, spurred on by the quiet gasps he failed to stifle, and his cool, addictive scent.

Then, without warning, his cock twitched, and warm fluid began to fill her mouth. Shocked, Helena struggled to get away, but he tightened his fingers in her hair and thrust in again. “You’ll swallow every drop,” he hissed, voice awash with carnal lust. “Every drop…”

Helena swallowed the warm liquid as it gushed out with each jerk of his cock, eyes wide and beading with tears. It didn’t taste anything like oranges; it was creamy and mildly salty.

Finally, he let her go and Helena sat up. She ran her arm across her face, wiping messy tears and snot. His thigh was smeared red with her blood.

The Alpha panted lightly. His tongue ran across his upper teeth. One side of his mouth curved up. “Still thirsty?”

Mortification rose in her, exceeding her fear of him for a moment. “Fuck you.”

He laughed lightly. “So crass.” He lifted his upper body, resting his weight on his elbows. “But, if you want to fuck me that badly, what sort of man would I be to deny you?”

She crossed her arms protectively over her exposed breasts. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

In a swift manoeuver, he kicked her legs apart with one foot, while one hand reached between them to swipe callously through her wet centre.

Helena gasped at the sudden and crude examination of her body. He wiped the evidence of her arousal on her abdomen just under her belly button.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Helena.” The Alpha extended an arm towards the table and his wand flew to him. “You know what to do.”

“No…” She cradled her injured arm. “Please, I thought we were done…”

His left eyebrow went up. “Done? We’re done when I say so. Your arm. Now.”

Helena sobbed defeatedly, slowly holding her arm out to him. It was such a difficult thing to do, to voluntarily offer up her body for torture.

“Eyes on mine,” he said. “At all times. Do you understand?”

Helena nodded, biting the inside of her lower lip in preparation for the pain, and locking her eyes to his once again.

Suddenly she felt his fingers ghosting along her inner thigh. Helena’s muscles quivered in anxious anticipation. She prayed he wouldn’t also cut her there.

His fingers travelled up to the apex of her thighs, slid through the slippery wetness, and then began to spread her essence gently, slowly, round her little point of pleasure.

Helena sucked in her breath and held her hips very still. His eyes were glowing mischievously. He was ignoring her proffered arm, just continuing to rub deliberate slow circles around her clit.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked.

Helena wet her lips. “Yes.” She did, and she didn’t, but whether she did or she didn’t, she knew absolutely that _no_ would have been the wrong answer.

“Then beg me to fuck you,” he commanded. His thumb pressed a little more firmly in as he rubbed her. Her eyes flickered.

“Please fuck me,” she mumbled, heated gaze fixed on his. Her thighs strained.

“I’ll fuck you when I believe you,” he said, and with his wand-hand, began cutting into her arm even as the other was still stoking the flames of desire in her body.

Helena let out a pained squeal, eyes widening in shock. She had forgotten about the intended punishment. “Please fuck me,” she pleaded, the desire to escape the ongoing agony adding a new, high note to her pleas.

His thumb flicked on the hard nub of her clit as the enchanted point of the wand opened a new line of red on her arm, and she cried out again in mingled pain and pleasure.

“Please fuck me.” She was beginning to sweat. Her hips canted, chasing something that took her mind off the torture he was mercilessly inflicting. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were focused on her arm. But still she didn’t dare to look elsewhere.

“Please fuck me,” she panted desperately, at the next painful laceration and at the next flick of pleasure. Something strong was building; blooming from where his fingers met her body.

Unthinkingly, impulsively, Helena reached her free hand to grip his stiff, hard member, trying to guide it towards her body. “Please, _please…_ ”

He hissed a surprised intake of breath, jolted by her audacity. Stopping his purposeful mangling of her arm, he sent his wand away, then pulled her forward by the hips and allowed her to sink herself on to him.

The blunt head of his cock hitched in her opening. Helena, almost crying with relief, pushed her hips firmly down. Her legs were spread around his muscled abdomen. Despite her wetness, his length still burned her going in.

The Alpha groaned, lip between his teeth. He snapped his hips impatiently up, sending a lance of pain shooting up her body.

Turning, bodies still joined, not quite flush, he flipped her onto her back. “Naughty Omega,” he muttered above her. “Naughty, impatient Omega.” He punctuated each word with a hard thrust into her core.

Helena’s mouth opened, body tensing as he firmly embedded his entire length into her welcoming channel.

She gripped his hips, trying to stave off the stabbing pain as he withdrew and then pushed back in. He leaned down to kiss her on the mouth. His lovely scent was all around her, saturating into her pores. She could drown in him.

Her tongue chased his as he fucked her in long, hard slides.

“You want my come in there?” He stabbed at the neck of her womb. Helena dug her nails into his skin with a soft sharp cry.

She didn’t, but she knew by now not to say no. And it didn’t matter anyway. She was weeks and weeks away from heat; he would not be able to impregnate her.

He stabbed into her again. His nose pushed into her neck. “Asked you a question, Omega.”

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy with fear and pain and arousal. “Yes, I want it.”

His hand slipped in between their bodies to play with her nub. His teeth grazed her neck. Helena shivered, fearing the prick of magically sharpening canines. He wouldn’t bite her; _he couldn’t…_

His pace picked up. Helena turned her mouth unconsciously into his neck, mirroring his erotic moves, tasting his skin, and feeling his racing pulse. The fear that he might mate with her, the knowledge that his teeth were so close to penetrating her skin, made her womb tighten with need. She was so close, _so close…_

And then with loud, shameless moans against his jaw, she came, her walls spasming around his dick.

“Mmm… What a good girl. Milking my cock…” His muscles clenched. He rode her climax with short, erratic thrusts. “Here you go, sweetheart, just like you asked for…” His cock jetted streams of cloudy sperm into her body.

Helena lay panting under him as he repeatedly tightened and released, and then slumped his weight fully on her body.

After the high had dissipated, the feeling of him still lodged in her body was becoming uncomfortable. His copious emissions were beginning to leak out of her and run down her ass and into the sheets.

Helena gritted her teeth as he pulled slowly out and rolled off her.

She watched him run one hand through his hair with a long, satisfied exhale, and when he left the bed, she gathered the blood-stained sheets around her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself lose control like that,” he commented, as he walked around using magic to clean his wrinkled, bloody clothes and dress himself. “This is why I never wanted an Omega. But I suppose now I’ve had one I can see its appeal.”

“I’m not an it,” muttered Helena. “I’m not a thing.”

She felt like a used thing, dirty and-

Her heart skipped a beat.

-soon to be discarded?

He flashed her a wicked smile, fingers buttoning the little translucent buttons of his linen shirt. Her gaze followed him as he walked to the table and picked up the silver tiara.

“As I was saying,” he said, tapping on it several times until he was satisfied with its decreased size, “I don’t normally let my base instincts get the better of me…” He pocketed the now tiny tiara. “Look at me,” he chuckled, “giving excuses to myself.”

“Aren’t you going to wear it?” asked Helena, interrupting his self-absorbed monologue.

“Wear it? Why ever would I do that? It’s a tiara.”

“For the wisdom,” said Helena, in a severe, _shouldn’t-it-be-obvious_ voice.

His eyes snapped to hers. “I don’t like your tone, Omega,” he said icily. Helena’s arm throbbed. “And I don’t need someone else’s wisdom. Not when mine is clearly superior.”

Now was not the time for allegiance to her house to manifest itself. But it did anyway. Maybe Helena should have been a Gryffindor; she was certainly obstinate and reckless enough. She pursed her lips. “Rowena Ravenclaw was the most intelligent and gifted-”

“Spare me the propaganda.” Without further ado, he opened the door with a twist of its knob and walked out of the room.

Helena stared for an unripe second, and then flinging the sheets off her, tried to slide off the bed. But it was no use. She wasn’t so much thwarted by any barrier as she was somehow adhered to the bed. Her feet touched the ground but refused to go further. More warm semen spilled out of her into the sheets, turning a subtle pink as they ran through and mixed with flakes of her blood.

Having failed to leave that way, she scrambled to the end of the bed, as close as she could get to the half-open door. Beyond, she could see more taut white canvas walls and teak wood flooring and dim lamplight. Was he gone? Had he left? He had _promised_ he would let her go.

She stood up. The mattress squeaked. Taking a deep breath, and hugging her injured arm to her chest, she ran a few steps and made a jump for the door. But as though something was making her skin stick, her feet remained planted on the bed, and the propulsion from her attempted jump threw only the rest of her body forward.

With an alarmed cry, she flung her arms out to avoid hitting her head in her fall. Her palms smacked against the wood flooring. The lacerated skin of her injured arm stretched painfully open and began to bleed heavily again.

She heard the door creak. Black leather shoes entered her view.

“I leave for a minute and I come back to this,” she heard a different, but familiar voice noting disapprovingly. She felt him fist her hair in one hand and then haul her up and onto her back.

Helena whined in pain, grabbing at his arm to ease the pressure on her scalp, then gasped in disbelieving shock.

She was looking into the face of Rudi.

“Rudi?!” Her mouth and eyes widened comically. “Oh, thank Merlin, you’re- I thought you were dead! Please, you have to get us out of here, he’s going to come back-”

“No. No, no, no.” He smiled a smile she had never seen on her guide before.

Helena gaped. Sea-green eyes swept across his familiar visage, his crisp linen shirt with its translucent buttons and his dark blue trousers. “No…” She scooted back. She was going to hurl. “ _No, no…_ ”

“I have to go out for a bit,” said her not-guide pleasantly, completely unaffected by her horror. “When you and I met, you interrupted a very important and tedious process that I now have to redo from the beginning.” He sighed. “I have to go hunting first. And- what did you say his name was?- Rudi?” He pulled a pale wand from behind his back. “Rudi’s going to be bait.”

Helena shook her head. Her brain could not work past her fear. “What did- how are you- how are you _wearing_ him?”

That question made more of an impact on him than her obvious emotions. He peered at her in a concerned manner. “Wearing him? It’s just Polyjuice, sweetheart. I’ve kept bits of Rudi.” He frowned. “Are you sure you’re a Ravenclaw? Hmm. Maybe you really could do with that tiara.”

“I know what Polyjuice is,” she croaked. She was imagining bits of flesh and hair in glass beakers, and now her brain was refusing to process anything past that horrific image. _What was the recipe for Polyjuice? Laceweed and fluxflies, no, wingflies-_

“I can’t have you continue to be a distraction while I’m busy.” He pointed his wand straight at her forehead.

_Bloody flesh in beakers. Holes for eyes. An opened chest._

She was trembling bodily. “Please, you said-”

“Sensus Excidio.”

Pain seared into her brain. White flashed behind her lids. And then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Do you like this Tom Riddle? If you like this version of him or this story or this chapter, let me know and uh, there will maybe be more.  
> Also, let me know if I should consider adding a specific tag.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. This chapter is for OncleVoldy, who hasn't let me forget this story.  
> Please check tags before reading, this contains sex, rape and violence.

It was dusk; she’d lost almost a whole day, maybe more. None of the lamps had yet been turned on, the room was dark, and the diminishing natural daylight was adding a blue-grey tint to the whites of the tent.

The man above her was shrouded in shadow, and her eyes had to work hard to make out his inhumanly attractive features. “My man’s been delayed,” he announced curtly, the syllables crisp and cutting, and doing nothing to conceal his annoyance. “So, I thought we’d play first.”

Helena struggled to lift herself. A terrible headache pounded at her skull. Her arm throbbed. “You said you’d let me go.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I said I’d reward you if you pleased me. And right now, you are not pleasing me. In fact, you are irritating me by being very boring and repetitive.”

Helena wisely kept her mouth shut. She swallowed dryly, looking about with empty curiosity. She was so dehydrated, and she was getting very hungry too, but she was afraid to ask for something. It might exacerbate his poor mood.

The tiara was back in its spot on the table beside her wand. The sheets were crisp and clean and white and even Hera’s still-nude body had been thoroughly cleaned. Her skin felt tender to the touch; he had been heavy-handed on the scouring charm.

She cast a fearful eye at her injured left arm. Deep lacerations ran haphazardly all across her forearm, revealing the raw pink flesh underneath. The whole thing was beginning to swell.

He followed the direction of her gaze. “That looks terrible,” he commented cheerfully. “It may even be infected. You’re going to need healing.”

Helena exhaled a pathetic, shuddering sigh. Yet another urgent need she was unable to have fulfilled.

“I could heal you,” he offered.

 _Could._ “Will you?” she asked, voice devoid of any expectation.

“If you were my Omega, I would heal you.”

Helena looked back at him, wondering if this was what he meant by playing. Well, she could play. “Am I not your Omega then?”

He smiled and sat down. “Are you?” he said softly. The whites of his eyes glowed in the near-dark. “Are you my Omega?”

“Yes,” Helena swiftly replied. “I’m yours.” Her gut twisted in defiance of those words, but even so, there was no point pretending otherwise: She was currently in his keeping. She was _his_ , Omega or not. _“For now,”_ her rebellious heart added. But she didn’t give that voice.

He chuckled. It seemed he was finally entertained. At least, he was no longer visibly irritated. “I suppose you might be. But how can I be sure that you’re not lying to me?” He pouted. “How can I be sure you’re not just trying to manipulate me into healing you?”

She technically was, but he was also clearly manipulating her into some gross new sexual act. Not that she minded at this point. She really needed her arm healed. “I’m not lying.” She reached for his shirt. “I’ll- I’ll prove it.”

The tiny buttons proved too challenging for her in her weakened state, and in the end, he had to undress himself, divesting himself of his shirt and trousers the muggle way. When that was done, Helena tried to take him in her hand, but he pushed her flat onto the bed. “Stay.” He straddled her body, towering over her with his cock in his fist, the long length of it jutting almost to her face.

Unsure and somewhat confused, Helena could only look as he began to slide his hand experimentally up and down his own impressive member while gazing into her helpless face. “If you want my cum, you’re going to have to open up, sweetheart.”

Great. Dinner and a show.

Helena opened her mouth, squinting apprehensively up at the slit of his cock as though it would start spitting its fluids at her if she looked away. Smiling, he reached for her, his other hand curving around her throat. “So hungry for my cum, aren’t you?” he said, as he deprived her of oxygen in one deliberate tightening of his fingers. Helena, fighting against the natural impulse to struggle, almost forgot to nod.

He loosened his fingers around her throat, letting her desperately swallow the air and the Alpha scent of him. “Hm? I don’t hear you begging for it.”

Helena coughed. “Please, I want your-” The rest of her words were trapped in her throat as he gave it another loving squeeze. Helena’s hands pushed instinctively at his muscular thighs. The slick sounds of his heavy organ being pumped by hand filled the room.

“Tsk, you’re pushing me away. My Omega would never push me away. Are you sure you’re mine?”

He stopped to let her breathe again, and she sucked in the perfumed air. She forced her hands off his thighs and flat on the bed. “Yes, I’m your-”

Again, he cut her off. He seemed to delight in watching her try to convince him of her sincerity, and in the visual of her pinned under him, all gritted teeth and poorly disguised loathing.  “I didn’t hear that.”

“I’m your Om-” Another squeeze.

“No more talking. Keep your mouth open, there’s a good girl.” Squeezing and releasing her throat in time to the rhythm of his other hand, he set about to vigorously pleasuring himself. He was training her to equate his scent with life, and it was working: Nothing smelled as mouth-wateringly good as the man above her in control of her very life.

He groaned lowly and continued to jerk his cock closer to her open mouth. “I’m going to give it to you now. Would you like that, sweetheart?” Helena nodded and nodded.

Finally, bucking aggressively into one hand, the other wrapped around her throat, squeezing so harshly that Helena’s vision began to tunnel, he angled his cock and instead of directing it into her mouth, began to paint her chest and the hollow of her throat with globs of milky cum.

The Alpha partially collapsed over her, breathing shallow breaths. He slowly relinquished control of her airway and rubbed his soiled hand across her neck, generously rubbing his sperm into her tender skin as she coughed weakly. “I thought you wanted my cum?” He dipped his fingers into the thick pool of it on her collarbone and chest and worked it into her nipples. “There soon won’t be enough to feed yourself with.”

Still coughing, swallowing her shock and disgust, Helena dipped her fingers into the slippery substance, scooping as much of it as she could and transferring it to her mouth. Her stomach rumbled. The alpha laughed breathily. “Finish the rest of it.” His weight lifted off her and he dressed while she swept the salty fluid off her chest with her fingers and licked those fingers clean.

He returned with his wand. “Your arm.”

Those words triggered a sense of pain and powerlessness from his prior abuse, but she offered him her injured arm, sighing with gratitude and relief when he began muttering healing spells over it and the pain ebbed away.

“There,” he said, and Helena looked at her healed arm. “Good as new.”

It was indeed ‘good as new’; he really was incredibly talented. Not a hint of trauma to the skin remained.

“Thank you.” She smiled tremulously and made to pull away, but he held fast. “Not yet, we’re not done.”

Helena frowned down at her arm. “It looks fine. I feel fine.”

“I know. I’ve cleared the canvas, so to speak. Now I’m going to mark you.”

Helena’s head shot up, and this time she tried- and failed to take her arm back so violently she almost pulled her elbow. “What- what do you mean by that?”

“I mean to mark you,” he answered pleasantly, “as my Omega.”

“Omegas don’t get marked…” Helena’s voice was quivering again, and now the blood was rushing through her temple in dull throbs.

“ _My_ Omega gets marked,” he said. The possessive tone was spoiled by amusement, the amusement only deepening as he spoke. “And you said you were mine. You were _so eager_ to prove it.”

What was left of his cum that she couldn’t clean off herself was still drying on her skin, evidence of another kind of marking. Helena swallowed, aware of the trap she was in. “I- I- I didn’t-”

“Unless you mean to tell me you were lying?” he said evenly, body posture immediately shifting into a hostile one. His hand pressed threateningly down on her fragile wrist.

“No, no!” She burst out. The fear and powerlessness to help herself was back in full force. “I wasn’t lying, I wasn’t!”

“Hold still then.” He frowned down at her arm, turning his head this way and that as though trying to decide how to begin. “I have to carve it in.”

Tears spilled easily from Helena’s eyes as the horror of the word travelled through her body. “Pl-please, _please_ don’t carve me, please!” The pressure of his grip increased on her wrist, and his thumb dug painfully in. He was going to break her wrist bone if he kept going. She broke down into wordless sobs.

He let her cry for several seconds before dragging his nail across her wrist. “Ready?”

Defeated, resigned to her fate, Helena attempted a change in plea. “At least make it painless, please!” She suppressed another panicked sob. “Please!”

He cocked his head, pretending to consider. “That you haven’t earned.” His wand came point down on her flesh like the sharpest of knives. “And I quite like you in pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: Foundher was inspired by a very specific scent.  
> If you want to know exactly what Tom Riddle in Foundher smells like, go check out  
> UNE FORÊT D'OR by GOUTAL Paris
> 
> You can probably buy it online. I have the stick diffusers.
> 
> Also, if you like this story, better let me know, or else I'm not going to prioritise this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> What do you think? Does this story deserve to continue?  
> 


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